


What if There Were No Blue

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim writes a poem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What if There Were No Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Male/Male implied sex. More sentimental sentinel sap. 

## What if There Were No Blue

by Sarah Saint Ives

Author's disclaimer: No money is being made from this, characters belong to some other lucky person. 

* * *

What if There Were No Blue?  
by Sarah Saint Ives 

Jim Ellison, tough homicide detective for the Cascade Police Department, had never written poetry in his life, at least none that rhymed. He had never considered himself adept at written romance. But, being on stakeout alone for thirty hours had given him euphoric inspiration. Being alone had not bothered him in the past, but those times were before he had met Blair Sandburg. After only a few hours alone, he came to the startling self-discovery that he missed him and needed him. Thirty hours into the stakeout, he began to attempt poetry. It was really more like prose, but it didn't matter. 

Blair 

I adore his eyes, those big blue eyes, full of energy, full of hope He smiles and it lights up my heart, he speaks and I melt It's those blue eyes, those expressionable eyes That have changed my mind about life and love I would not want to face the future without him 

What if there were no blue?  
Would his eyes still beguile me?  
Would I still hear the beating of his heart?  
Would his touch comfort me?  
If there were no blue... 

He will probably never know how much he means to me Will never know how much I need him I can only dream that he loves and needs me half as much And is half affected by my blue eyes, too I do not want to face a single day without him. 

What if there were no blue?  
Would my eyes be upon him?  
Would I know his heart?  
Would my touch comfort him?  
If there were no blue... 

* * *

"Damn, this is turning out more like a pathetic love song." Jim groaned. He wadded up the paper and pitched it into the trash sack in the floorboard. Picking up his cellphone, he dialed a number. "Simon, I've got to get out of here. I'm going crazy. I've been writing poetry, I'll have you to know." he said. 

Captain Simon Banks' voice was sympathic. "Poetry, Jim? Okay, I'll get someone else on it. You've been there how long?" 

"Thirty hours, sir. I'm tired." 

"Too long. Go home and get some sleep, Jim, and don't worry. The poetry is our secret." Simon laughingly broke the connection, and Jim Ellison drove home. He was in bed, asleep long before Blair was home from the academy. 

* * *

Blair Sandburg had been attending daily sessions of self-defense and firearms classes. He was ready to become a Cascade detective, to be Jim Ellison's partner. The academy was tiring, but mostly he was tired of being separated from Jim every day. He knew his friend had been on a stakeout and wanted to be with him. As a sentinel, there was always a danger that Jim would zone out and be vulnerable to attack. 

Blair saw the truck in its usual parking place when he arrived home, and as he passed it, he saw Jim's coat inside. The doors were unlocked, so he reached in to get the coat. In reaching, he knocked over the trash sack on the floor and a wadded piece of paper rolled out. It was covered with Jim's handwriting. Curiously, Blair unwadded it and read the bit of prose/poetry/lyric that Jim had written. 

He caught his breath. Tears brimmed in his blue eyes and his lower lip trembled with emotion. "Oh, Jim." he whispered. 

* * *

Blair was at the kitchen counter when Jim woke and emerged from his bedroom. 

The detective yawned loudly as he joined his friend. "Got any coffee made?" he mumbled. 

Blair poured him a cup and handed it to him in a deep blue mug. "I'm making dinner." he said softly. "Go sit down and I'll bring you a plate." 

Jim went peacefully, sipping his coffee. "Where'd this mug come from?" he asked, taking a chair at the table. 

"I found it in the cupboard. Way in back." 

"Oh, yeah. I used to have a whole set like this." 

"Yeah, I found some of it." Blair brought the matching plates and bowls to set the table. "Very old fashioned stuff, but it's cool." 

Jim nodded. "So, vegetable soup? Is that what that is?" 

"Yeah, home made. I used canned potatoes, peas, carrots, everything." 

"Oh, _real_ home made soup." Jim commented, watching him closely. "Blair, what's up?" 

"What do you mean? I've made home made soup before." 

"I'm not talking about the soup. You're not acting normal. What's going on?" 

"Nothing!" Blair looked down. 

Jim gazed at him. "Okay." 

Blair used a large ladle to fill their bowls and put them on the plates. "I'm just tired." 

"Why is the soup blue, Blair?" 

"Because I put blue food coloring in it." 

"Why?" 

"To make it blue, okay? It's blue. There will always be blue, Jim. Always." 

Jim bit back a gasp, remembering the poem. "What the hell are you talking about, Chief?" 

"Nothing. Just...I wanted to make it blue for you. I'm wearing blue, even my _underwear_ is blue. The sky is blue, the dishes are blue, the soup is blue. All for you, Jim. Blue." 

Jim closed his eyes. "You read my poem." 

"Yeah. Sorry." Blair sat down across from him. "I didn't do it on purpose." 

"How can you read somebody's wadded up poem by accident?" 

Blair stirred his soup neurotically with one hand while he twisted a strand of his freshly trimmed curls with the other. "My name was at the top, so I read it." 

"It was wadded up, Blair, and in the trash." 

Blair sighed in resignation and took a bite of his blue soup, swallowed with effort. "It was nice, Jim." 

"You liked it?" 

"Yeah, I liked it. Very much." 

"You think I should put it to music?" 

"It's beautiful without music." 

"Beautiful?" 

"Yeah, beautiful." 

Jim scoffed and drank his coffee, thinking. "It was written after I'd sat there alone for thirty hours, Blair." 

"You were tired and bored. Your muse kicked in." 

"I missed you being there with me. I've never felt that lonely before." 

"I miss you, too, Jim. As much as you miss me." Blair stood and walked round the table to place his hands on Jim's shoulders. "And I love you, too." 

Jim scooted his chair away from the table and pulled his partner into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around him. "Blair..." 

Blair kissed his jaw, then his chin as he drew back enough to look into his eyes. "I'm here for you, Jim, and I won't go away unless you make me. I love you." 

Those blue eyes were sparkling with consent, the full lips slightly parted, an inch from Jim's. Abandoning all prior inhibitions, Jim kissed him hungrily. One lingering kiss led to another, and another until they were lost in each other. Jim was completely zoned on the sensations and Blair was in heaven. 

By the time they came up for air, the soup was cold. Blair placed a soft kiss on Jim's neck and murmured, "Are your legs falling asleep yet?" 

"Not a chance. Nothing's asleep." 

With a little swivel of his hips, Blair nudged the solid mass inside Jim's sweats. "I turn you on." he said, smiling sweetly. "You want some of this?" 

"Yeah." Jim answered, kissing his ear. "I want _all_ of this." 

"You got it, Blueboy. It's all yours." Blair said warmly. "Let's go upstairs." 

"Blair..." 

"Hm?" Blair was busy nibbling on Jim's collar bone. 

"I'm glad you read the poem, but never call me Blueboy again." 

Blair giggled. "What name do you prefer?" 

"How about Stud?" 

Blair smiled. "Take me to bed now, or I'll come up with one you definitely won't like." 

Jim grinned and shoved him to his feet, then led the way up the stairs. 

* * *

"You know, I used to be a little more athletic in bed." Jim was winded from their lovemaking. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine." Blair was still buzzing, still unwilling to break the spell. "Oh, Jim, do you know how long I've wanted this with you?" 

"How long?" 

"A long time. I've been in love with you for a really long time." 

Jim kissed him and cuddled him close. "I can tell you exactly when I fell in love with you." 

"Was it when you came to rescue me when Lash kidnapped me?" 

"No." 

"Was it when you grabbed onto that helicopter..." 

"Nope. It was when I looked into those big blue eyes for the first time and saw your soul. I think I had you pinned against a wall...or...something..." Jim cleared his throat and continued. "I could tell you were special as soon as I touched you, but I didn't want to admit it then. In fact, I didn't want to admit it ever." 

"So, it was because of my blue eyes?" 

"Yeah, I guess. Maybe. Hell, Blair, I don't know." 

"I'm glad they're blue. I like your blue eyes, too, you know." Blair kissed him again, then yawned. "I didn't put the soup away." 

"Put it away in the morning." As Blair turned over, Jim spooned against his back, both arms around him comfortably. "Better yet, throw it away. Soup is not supposed to be blue." 

"Love you." Blair mumbled. 

"Love you, too, babe." 

Blair smiled to himself and closed his blue eyes. 

the end 


End file.
